


I'm not van Gogh, but I'll still give you an ear.

by artisanAdoration



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Also this is my first time writing in second pov so go easy on me, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, M/M, Soulmate AU, Tags will be added as we go, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 10:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23849419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artisanAdoration/pseuds/artisanAdoration
Summary: "The only thing your mind seems to focus on was how his lips parted, how he had a pale scar on his top lip, the freckles on his cheeks. He filled your head like a fog. This is it, the day you never thought would come. That's him. This is your soulmate."
Relationships: Mentions of Jade/Karkat, Sollux Captor/Dave Strider
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	I'm not van Gogh, but I'll still give you an ear.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Archive of Locked Timelines Discord! Come write with us!
> 
> https://discord.gg/6kVQZSU

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but this is definitely not something you can easily comment on. You look at the newest installation of grade-a bullshittery that has magically appeared on your forearm in dark blue ink. Really, the more time you spend staring at it and trying to decipher it, the more questions that seem to arise. Is.. Is that supposed to be an arm? And what the fuck is he eating? You're also pretty sure a back isn't supposed to bend at that angle. Looking at this just screamed, 'what if Pablo Picasso decided to fuck around and play God on Spore for a year or two?' Regardless, this is absolute trash and there isn't anything you can do but pull the sleeve down on your hoodie and pray that no one else saw it and had their eyes assaulted. A quick glance around affirmed that, as usual, nobody around you really gives a shit. With a sigh of relief, you pull out your own black pen and quickly scribble a note on the back of your hand. Your penmanship isn't exactly the best, but hey. Whatever. Not exactly caring at the moment. Right now, you're just trying to make it through this damn lecture.

_"Trying to focus here."_ Short, sweet, and to the point. That's how we like to do things here at Casa del Captor. Maybe this person will finally get the damn message and actually stop drawing for once. You're tired of going home and seeing your arm completely covered with ink, especially when this certain someone decides that it would be a wonderful idea to just sleep on it without washing it off and having it smear all over. God, you'd hate to see this person's bed sheets. They must be stained to all hell. Hey, focus, dude, professor's talking. Snapping back to your notes, you easily slide back into the swing of things, granted you took it upon yourself to glance over at your neighbor's paper a few times to see what exactly you missed in your little internal monologue. You refuse to look at your arm for the rest of the lecture, focusing on the professor's droning. Ugh, can this guy speak with any less enthusiasm? You'd think after a while, his voice would have some kind of inflection, but no, not this guy, apparently. Just a robot in the educational system. Beep boop motherfucker. Finally, after an eternity of attempting to stay interested, you're finally free. You gather up your stuff and shove it all in your backpack, the fabric faded and, honestly, kind of gross. You've had it since high school, and you've just never got around to replacing it, even though one of the straps is barely hanging on by a thread. You've got about two hours to kill before your next class, so you decide to kick it in the courtyard. 

The campus actually isn't that terrible considering how small of a school your college is. Plenty of trees to sit under, it's relatively quiet, and, hell, you've caught yourself napping out here more times than you can count. No one really bothers you here, and it's perfect for a hermit like yourself. Okay, well, not exactly a hermit, but more anti-social than anything. Putting your choice of human interactions aside, you plop your happy ass down against a large oak tree on the west side of the main courtyard and pull a pair of tangled headphones out of the front pocket of your bag. These babies have gotten you through more shit than you can remember: finals, your parents' divorce, moving across country with your older brother after graduation... These things were your rock, your one place to escape the world around you. 

Popping a bud in each ear and plugging the cord into your phone, you drown the world out with some sick tunes. Maybe now you'll actually have the energy to deal with the fucker on your arm. You almost hesitate to see the damage now, just starting at your sleeve, like it was rearing back to strike. You can totally just leave it, look at it in the safety of your dorm, but what can you say? Your curiosity is piqued. You flip your hand to look at your message, and it seemed to be completely untouched. Maybe they haven't seen it? No way, they had to have seen it. It's out there in the open. Maybe they were actually-- Oh, _fuck you._ After gathering the courage pull your sleeve up once more, you feel rage bubbling in your gut. Your arm is fucking _destroyed._ You chew on your bottom lip as you go over what Hell looks like. Side profiles of faceless bases, this weird ass Tony the Tiger ripoff, a wriggling mass of different shaped tentacles all emerging from a crude-looking hand, and--worst of all--the most realistic drawing of a penis that you've ever seen. Oh yeah, you shove your sleeve back down with flushed cheeks. You're fucking pissed, and never in your life have you wanted blood more than you do right now. 

Who the fuck does this douchebag think they are? If you ever find them, you're going to deck the shit out of them for being so inconsiderate. How are you supposed to go around with all this shit inked on your arm? Looks like you're spending the rest of the school year with a hoodie until you can--quite literally--knock some fucking sense into this guy. Like, really! Why couldn't they just get a sketchbook or something if they're going to be drawing a bunch of weird shit like this? They must think they're so fucking cute, huh? 

You sigh heavily through your nose to try to calm yourself down, but the only thing that did was flare your nostrils like a bull getting ready to charge. And boy, would you love to ram your horns into this fucker, no hesitation. You pull your pen out once more and tried to find an area around your hand that you can write without having to expose the nightmare underneath. Ugh, of course there isn't. Maybe you have some hand sanitizer or something to wipe off your first message. You lay the pen down in the grass and open up your bag once more, hand scrounging around the endless amounts of trash you have in there. Binder, book, paper, water bottle.. No, no, no, come on. You grab hold of something and pull it out, grimacing as you pulled out a week old breakfast sandwich wrapped loosely in a torn paper towel. Okay, gross. That would explain the weird smell in there.. Putting that aside, you decide to jump back in, finally managing to grab hold of the small bottle of Germ-X you kept stashed in there. But, of course, because the universe just decided to shit on you today, it's empty. 

_God fucking damn it._ You have to resist cursing out loud as a freshman chattered happily with her boyfriend a few yards in front of you. Both had matching hearts on their hands. Ugh, disgusting. You roll your eyes and take the only logical next step. You lift your hand up to your mouth and ran your tongue over your rather clammy skin, and, after letting saliva pool, use your other hand to begin wiping off the ink. Slowly, but surely, the message starts to fade. You wipe the excess off on your jeans and start the whole process over. Lick, rub, wipe, repeat. You're pretty sure at this point, you're going to be tasting ink for the rest of the day. Thankfully, it hasn't rested long enough to completely stain the skin, and soon, you are staring at a relatively clean canvas. You can still see the ghosts of a few of the letters lingering around, but they are faded enough to where they can cover it. You look around for your pen, having to shimmy your hips a few times from your spot to find it nestled comfortably between your ass and the ground. Finally settling back in, you click the the button and begin writing your message.

_"Get a sketchbook, douchebag."_ You admire your handwork and smirk, nodding in affirmation to yourself. That should get the message across nicely. You sit back and allow yourself to get lost in the steady beat of of your music, the loop tracks almost putting you into a trance. Alright, come on, let's get some actual peace and quiet. There's no way you're going to let this person work you up into a tizzy and stress you out before lab. You got this, Captor. Just breathe. 

You throw your hands behind your head after setting your alarm, and close your eyes, crossing your ankles comfortably, letting your mind wander. The breeze feels nice today, and, coupled with the warmth of the sun's rays shining through in concentrated beams from the leaves above, you could almost feel the earth breathing below you as you slip into a catatonic state. Nothing else matters except for you and your beats. 

You were just about to cross over into dreamland when you feel a rather harsh kick to your foot. You're suddenly feeling very awake. You leave your eyes closed, and pop a single headphone out, the rustling of the leaves above you catching your attention first. 

"It'd better be important for you to interrupt my afternoon nap," you sigh out, voice coming out in a low grumble. "A princess needs her beauty sleep." Ugh, you forgot how bad your lisp was when you're half asleep. 

"Yeah, well, Your Highness needs to get off her lazy ass and actually show up to her tutoring lesson, since, obviously, the faculty in this shithole are hardly qualified to call themselves professors." Oh, you know that cynicism anywhere. You peek an eye open and in front of you is your oldest friend. With an unruly mass of brown hair and a plain red T-shirt on, Karkat Vantas glares down at you from your feet, his chest slightly puffed out in agitation. You sigh and push yourself up with a groan, yawning rather obnoxiously and scratching your stomach. 

"I dunno, KK, I'm pretty sure you still owe me for last time," you muse, a cocky smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. This only made his frown cut deeper, the man flopping down in front of you. "A genius doesn't work for free, after all."

"Fuck off, Captor, you know _damn_ well I took you to that shitty pizza place downtown and spent almost fifty dollars so you could gorge your fat ass like it was the fucking apocalypse. Now, cut the shit and help me out with this. I have class in thirty and I can't afford to waste any more time waiting for you to actually uphold your end of the bargain." 

From here, you could see the freckles that dusted his dark cheeks, brown eyes aglow like amber in the afternoon sun. If it weren't for the almost permanent scowl lines from years of barking up a storm, he'd actually be pretty pleasant to look at. But that rough exterior has honestly come to grow on you through all these years. He's always been a tough cookie to crack, even when you were kids. You remember him coming up to you, grabbing the front of your shirt on the recess playground, and yelling, _"We're going to the monkey bars, hurry up!"_ before pushing you away and stomping over. 

Ah, what a start to a beautiful friendship. The _nostalgia_ trip almost made you lose track of the task at hand. But you can't help yourself, this guy never really changed. Well, except for the fact he somehow developed a shittier taste in movies-- Hey, he's trying to get your attention.

"Hey, Earth to Sollux!" He snaps his fingers at you a few times to get your attention. "Jesus fucking Christ, are you going to help me or what? Because if you're not, I'll have to find someone more reliable to give free pizza." 

You place a hand over your chest to feign offense, gasping dramatically. "Me? Unreliable? You never give me the benefit of the doubt." You find yourself pulling out some blank pieces of notebook paper and a mechanical pencil from your back, a soft chuckle passing your lips. "It's not my fault you don't have the brain capacity to handle the material. You sure you don't wanna drop out and sell your soul to the capitalist machine? They'll take just about anyone. No degree necessary." 

He just rolls his eyes and flips you off, pulling out some rather crumpled papers from his bag. A few of them had various gross stains on them. Jeez, and you thought your bag was a mess. Looking at the state of his homework is really starting to make you wonder what it's like for his teachers. Must be a living hell, honestly. 

"Oh, haha, very funny," he retorted, flipping through some of the papers to find the right one. "So funny, I'm positively rolling here in the grass. Really, you should think about dropping out and becoming a comedian! I'm sure the audience would get a real fucking kick out of tossing you off the stage for your tasteless humor! I know I would! It'll be the grand finale that trumps all grand finales: The crowd will riot, they'll set fire to the tables and shatter all the glassware they can get their grubby little hands on, then a pyre will be built in your honor and they will oh-so-lovingly throw you in as a sacrifice to the Gods of Comedy! Then, you'll truly be more legendary than Larry Platt making a complete ass of himself on national television." He accented his little tyrade with a flick of his wrist, his middle finger popping up violently. You couldn't help but laugh at the overkill there, so why not.. Fan the flames a little bit? It'll get your mind off whoever is making your life a living hell.

_"General_ Larry Platt," you correct slyly, earning a swift slap to the leg. You don't bother holding back your chuckle. 

"For the love of God, shut the fuck up, Sollux. Stop stalling and help me with this." He held a paper out for you to take, which you do, thankfully. Good thing about basically having a computer for a brain, shit like this is almost second nature. So, just like that, you easily transition into business. 

Karkat isn't exactly the most incompetent person when it came to academics, but Jesus, did he question everything. Why you have to do it this way? Who will even use this after graduation? Who in their absolute right mind would buy nineteen bottles of dish soap at six bucks a piece when you can just go to the dollar store and get them for cheap? No, seriously. He asked that. This kid is going to be the death of you, but hey--That pizza? Totally worth it. Besides, this is your best bro, you wouldn't change him for the world, even if he does induce frustration headaches sometimes. 

It wasn't long until you got a good flow going, the man finally ignoring the triviality of it all in favor of actually focusing on the equations in front of him. Eventually, he doesn't even need your guidance, he just sits there and rambles through the steps while scribbling on his paper. So, naturally, you sit in the passenger's seat, just watching him go at it. You find yourself smiling with a familiar fondness when he suddenly beams.

"Aha! Got it!" He holds his fist up in victory, his pencil held firmly in his hand. "I'll show these assholes who the real academic champion is! Hell, maybe I'll just take over the fucking course and show them how to teach a fucking class!" Oh, he's adorable when he's so confident like this. You snap out of your little haze when he suddenly turns to you, tossing his pencil back in his bag and starting to pack his stuff up. "Thanks again, Sollux. Don't know what I would have done if I couldn't find you." You tap you chin thoughtfully, even going as far as to furrow your brow.

"Mmm, let's see. Probably blow my phone up, realize you were screwed, completely bomb the test, then bitch at your professor for being incompetent, and demand either a retake, or a grading curve. To which she'd say no to either of those, because she is, as you've stated before, _'A belligerent, astronomically-bitchy sack of horseshit'."_ This earns you another swift smack to the leg, but hey! At least this time he he's giving you a smirk. It's a good look for him, really. You can even see the faint laugh lines beginning to form around his eyes. 

"Oh, shut up," he scoffs, leaning forward after tossing his bag off to the side once more. Upon closer inspection, you can see a small doodle on the inside of his wrist. Immediately, you zero in on it. He follows your gaze and flushes bright red, a rough, calloused hand wrapping around it in a feeble attempt to hide it. You lean forward and give him a shove. "Dude-- No, shut up. Don't fucking say a word about it."

"Awww, does little Karkat have a girlfriend?" you tease, giving him a suggestive eyebrow wiggle. Hey, you had no idea he would even get someone, to be fair. He's not exactly the most romantic guy in town after all. Back in the day, he tried to get with Terezi of all people--aka, the biggest fucking lesbian in your friend group. His justification? _"She's blind, she can't write on herself and I still don't have anything on my arm, so it's gotta be her!"_ Two 'dates' later and a marker test proved that to be false. Poor guy fell hard after that, spending the next couple days cursing the universe for fucking with his emotions. On the plus side, you've noticed that the two have become even closer after everything they went through. It made them realize that they really just enjoy each other's company, even if they aren't destined to be soulmates. It's good to see him smiling again--It was rough to see him so down. 

"Shut up," he hisses, holding his wrist to his chest. You press forward and grin even wider, shoving his shoulder lightly. 

"Come on, you know you can't hide anything from me. Who is she? You can tell me, I promise I won't embarrass you too much. You do plenty of that yourself, you don't really need my help." 

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, slowly holding his wrist out to show a heart with a cute little smiley face next to it. Oh, that's actually adorable. He refuses to meet your gaze once he starts talking. 

"Her name is Jade, and she lives out in the Pacific. I, uh. I'll be meeting her this summer when her grandfather comes to the states for business." Awww, he's blushing like a school girl now. Big Bad Vantas has grown soft, how adorable. "We haven't been talking long, but I do know that she's a botanist, and she dabbles in engineering, too." 

That's a very strange combination, but you keep your mouth shut. You also can't help the chill that settled in your stomach. Even Karkat knows his soulmate, and really, they sound pretty happy already. You still don't even know who yours is. You can't help but glance down at your hand, seeing the message you had written crossed through with a messy line. Yup, you wanted to strangle this person. You'd think they'd have the courtesy to fucking write back--

"Yo, man, are you even listening?" Oop, his frown is back and his arm is quickly being pulled back. You done fucked up now. "Look, don't bother asking questions you don't want the answer to-"

"Look, it's not you," you interrupt, crossing your own arms and sighing heavily. "I'm happy for you two, I really am. I just.. I think life just wants to fuck me over, because the person it threw me with is fucking stupid and inconsiderate." He tilted his head as you pull your sleeve up to expose the doodles all over your flesh. He stares wide-eyed for a moment, before suddenly snorting, and letting out the grossest cackle you've ever heard come out of him. You feel the heat burning your cheeks and creep up to your ears. "Dude, it's not funny! Look at this!" He falls back onto the grass, holding his stomach. If he wasn't your best friend you would have punched the shit out of him.

_"Hahahaha_ dude, what are you talking about? This is fucking _hilarious!"_ He holds nothing back at this point, his face almost as red as yours. "Dude, you're fucking tied to _Strider,_ of all people, Jesus fuck--" 

Woah woah woah, what? You throw yourself into reverse for a moment, and the whiplash of emotions honestly kind of scares you.

"Wait, you know who this is?" Your voice comes out in a harsh whisper, hetero-chromatic eyes darting around you. Karkat is definitely drawing attention to you both, and boy, you can feel the anxiety curdling in your stomach. You feel sick, confused, embarrassed--You're frantic to get him to shut up, and of course, he doesn't do jack shit until you're hiding your face in shame. You can feel the judgement on your shoulders, the whispers of your cohorts as they prepare for their classes. He finally sits up and wipes a tear from his eye, pieces of grass sticking out of his hair like confetti. It'd be cute if he wasn't being such a douche right now. So you send him a glare through parted fingers. "And you say I'm insufferable."

"I'm sorry, but this is fucking hilarious." He ruffles his hair up and watches as grass falls from his wild curls like sad, half-dead confetti at the world's most miserable birthday party. Well, at least he isn't making a scene anymore. Count your blessings and all that. "Yeah, I know him--Unfortunately. He's a complete tool who doesn't know when to back the fuck off and shut his trap. I swear, the guy mostly hot air and has an extremely warped sense of what _irony_ means. It's irony this, ironic that, it's all for the _fucking irony._ He's clearly never picked up a dictionary in his entire goddamn life." He waved his hands in the air as he explained, then sat back on them in one smooth motion. "I can get you his number so you can experience the stupidity for yourself, since apparently you're destined to spend the rest of your miserable lives together." You let out a long drawn out groan, which only spurs him on. "I don't envy you even a little, Sol."

Before Karkat can continue his rant, the clock tower from the middle of campus rang out, and he immediately stands up, tossing his backpack over his shoulder. His expression softens somewhat, glancing back at you. "Oh, com on, chill out! I'm joking. Look, I know his last class is at 3, so you can probably try to work something out then, assuming you don't make a fool of yourself." 

You roll your eyes and relax just a bit, not pointing out how he's been making an absolute fool of you in front of everyone for you. Despite all the teasing and jabs at each other, though, you know you both have each other's backs. You always have. So, to show your brotherly love, you cock a grin at him and flip him off. 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Good luck on your test. Hope my tutoring skills were enough to keep your C average afloat." 

He smirks down at you and gives you a double bird, walking backward a few steps before turning on his heel. "I have a B average, sucker, so we'll see if your skills are up to the challenge of helping me keep it! Text you later, Sollux." 

Your smile fades as he goes, just watching him walk away, soon vanishing into one of the campus buildings. 

_Fuck._ Of course you would get someone like this. And really, the fact that Karkat knows him makes it worse? Usually, mutual friends are a great thing! But seeing how Karkat reacted, he must be a real fucking treat to have him literally rolling. This whole situation was a fucking joke, and the fact that this guy-- _Strider_ \--won't fucking actually respond to you like a decent human being? It drives you up the fucking wall. Is it too early to say you hate him? 

Actually? Let's not think about this right now. Just pop your music back in and let's try to actually relax, instead. Hopefully there won't be anymore interruptions! 

As a precautionary measure, you glance around you just to make sure no one was trying to sneak up on you. Left, right, behind you.. Good. Coast is clear. You lean back against the tree once more and start up your music. For once, no one seems to bother you and you slip into a light nap.

You're awakened by your phone going off, buzzing in your hand and blaring Sporty-O, and at first you think it's Karkat, but turns out it's just the alarm you set. Oy, taking that nap was a mistake, because there's a throbbing in the back of your head now. This is what you get for sleeping against trees when you're stressed about some guy you don't even know! 

Running a hand through your hair, you groan softly and push yourself off the trunk. You slouch over and slide your hands up under your glasses to press the heels of your hands to your eyes in a feeble attempt to just make the pain stop. The sun being right in your eyes definitely isn't helping, so after you drop your hands and let your eyes refocus, you haul yourself up to your feet and sling your backpack over your shoulder by the good strap. You pull out your phone to see a message from your best friend, open it up, and see it's a phone number. That sick feeling in your gut comes creeping back, because there it is: _Strider's number._ Why are you so nervous about this? You just.. Stare at the message. Like it's a cobra getting ready to strike. You gather up the courage to send him a text. 

You set the message up and get ready to type, but something stops you. A thought. What do you even say? _Hey man, we've never met but I'm your soulmate and you just happen to go to the same school, let's hang out sometime and get married or something?_ Okay, that's just fucking ridiculous. You take a minute to stare at screen before finally just letting your fingers do all the thinking. Just go with your gut and hit send. Shoot first, ask questions later.

_"We need to talk."_

You look at it, process it. 

...

Are you fucking serious? Can you be any more ominous? Good thinking! There's no way this could go wrong! You shove your phone into your pocket and sigh heavily, shaking your head before finally heading to your next class. Why did you do that? You can't even begin to imagine the consequences of this. You should have just left it, should have just gone to class and not worried about it. But no, you had to go off on a whim. This is exactly we don't have nice things. At least your self-loathing made the trek to your building much faster. 

This part of the campus is actually pretty decked out compared to where you came from. A long, reflective pool leading up to the main building, and the clock tower with trees on either side, a small flower garden in front of the biology building, an open expanse of land with a giant rock covered in spray paint behind you. A round fountain sits in the the middle of everything, creating this sense of community between it all. 

As you walk past a group of three other students, you lower your head, refusing to meet their eyes, but you can't help but pick out some of the conversation they have. Such is life on campus, no conversation is wholly private, after all.

"Hey Dave, are you okay, dude? You look upset." 

"Yeah man," the latter drawled, a thick southern twang littering his words. "Jus' got some rando textin' me. Check it." 

"Woah weird. You get on someone's bad side or something?"

"Man, I don't even fuckin' know. And even if I did, they couldn't catch these hands." 

"Psh, you couldn't hurt a fly. Don't even try to kid yourself."

"You wanna try me, Egbert? I'll KO you th' fuck out." 

"Oh yeah?!" 

You're passing them when suddenly something hits your shoulder, breaking your gaze at the cracks in the cement. You look up to see a kid wearing a bright red hoodie with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and.. Underneath? He's wearing a fucking ahegao shirt. Who even wears those anymore? Those went out of style _years_ ago. Seriously, the only people you see wearing those now are sweaty neckbeards that creep around conventions and preach about being "such a great guy" before trying to justify why clopping should be normalized in society.  
Looking up, the very first thing you notice is your own face reflected off the lens of a pair of pitch black aviators, worn by a blonde who's looking back at you. Behind this guy is this behemoth of a man with windswept black hair and glasses, a girl with a platinum-blonde bob peaking over his shoulder. 

"Woah man, sorry," the shades guy says to you, holding his arms up apologetically. "Totally didn't mean t' get all up and ya grill. We chill?" You absently notice his arm is marked up, only looking for a brief second before your attention is pulled back up. There's a giant fucking dick on his forearm, and he's not even trying to hide it. That's rather bold of him. There's other scrawlings, but you don't want to stick around to study them.

"Yeah man, we're good," you mutter instinctively, before turning back towards your building. You hear a bright laugh from the second male before their banter continues and starts fading off. You refocus your attention to the cement. Something just seemed so familiar about those markings, but for a solid thirty seconds you can't place it--And then your brain finally decides to connect the dots. Hand holding some kind of fireball, the message, the fucking dick on his arm--! 

You turn on your heel fast enough for the world to blur, head beginning to spin. No way. No fucking way--That couldn't be. 

You catch up to them easily, and like before, your body moves faster than your head.

"Strider!" you call out, the blonde turning in confusion. Time stopped as you stared into those shades once more, watching your reflection grow and shift with each step towards them. The world starts to fall apart around you, reality shifting like dust in the wind. The only thing your mind seems to focus on is how his lips parted, how he has a pale scar on his top lip, the freckles on his cheeks. He fills your head like a fog. This is it, the day you never thought would come. That's _him._ This is your _soulmate._

The only thing that pulls you out of the haze is splitting pain in your knuckles as you drive your fist into his nose.

**Author's Note:**

> Title thanks go to my muse, Harley.  
> Beta read by my other muse, Aelfrey.  
> Don't know what I'd do without y'all.   
> ( ˘ ³˘)♥
> 
> I haven't properly written anything for years, so I figured it was about time to actually start up again with this whole Quarantine going on. So yeah, enjoy the cliffhanger, wash your hands, and be safe out there! Love y'all!


End file.
